


Potion, Poison, and Panic

by nchi_wana



Category: Et Cetera (Manga)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Mid-Canon, Non-Consensual Touching, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8786590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nchi_wana/pseuds/nchi_wana
Summary: That wasn't cough medicine she gave him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most ridiculous thing I've ever written. I wrote it to a prompt if only to challenge myself. Critique is welcome (and needed). Comments are prized. Kudos are appreciated.

Alternate stared up at the gilded wagon with wonder and uncertainty, its white body gleaming in the waning sunlight. Intricate designs had been carved into its sides, and a light emanated from the window of the front door. An unlit lantern hung just above it. It was the most elegant vehicle he had seen in the carnival, which had begun to pack up after an eventful week.

The carnival workers were busy reloading their supplies and animals, but no one paid Alternate any mind. He was just one among many who had come to this wagon, sometimes to just stare in curiosity, and his reason for coming would surprise no one. The owner of the wagon had seen many visitors since the carnival’s arrival. But she would have one more customer this evening.

Alternate took another look at the paper in his hand. “Mistress Viola Venom.” _That’s a fake name if I ever heard one_. But this was the place described to him by the one and only doctor in town. A one-of-a-kind, white, gilded wagon like “something out of heaven,” the man had said.

_He was three sheets to the wind. What kind of doctor doesn’t have at least something for a cough, and why would he send me to a place like this?_

The sight of the wagon served to increase his doubts. _I’m desperate enough to go to a carnie for help_. _This place gives me the creeps._

He’d gone to a carnival several years ago as a young boy and remembered the terror of the freak show. He still had nightmares. This was the last place on earth he wanted to be right now. _But I’ve got to try something. As much as it bothers me to be here..._

The doorstep creaked under his weight. His heart thumped against his ribs. He heard a burst of raucous laughter and caught the aroma of grass and manure. Sweat prickled at his temples. Memories of the freak show—leering faces and toothy grins—a hulking, bearded woman—man with no neck or legs—two children with red eyes—RED EYES—pervaded his mind so he didn’t notice the door opening. He righted himself before he fell off the step.

“Yes?” said a woman at the door.

Alternate grabbed hold of the door frame to keep from falling.

The woman, Mistress Viola Venom, looked back at him from under long black lashes that framed her green eyes. Her blond hair, almost white, reached down past her hips and curled at the ends.

It wasn’t so much her beauty as it was the dress she wore that surprised him. It nearly touched ground behind her legs, white like her wagon, but the front fell short above her knees. Green sequins glittered in the slant of light from the sunset, their arrangement reminding Alternate of the scales of a snake. More terrifying to him than a bearded lady or red-eyed children was the deep plunge of the dress’s neckline.

“Can I helped you with something?” the woman asked in a high, sweet voice.

Alternate worked loose his tongue. “Uh—I—A-Are you M-M-Mistress Viola V-Venom?”

“I am she.”

“S-Someone told me I could come to you for help.”

“Help for what?”

Alternate’s gaze went to her chest, but he forced it back to her eyes. His scattered thoughts tumbled about in his head.

The woman gave him a sympathetic smile and tugged on his sleeve. “Come inside.”

As if in a trance, he followed this exotic creature into her lair.

The interior was warm. Alternate left the door open, allowing a flow of cool air. Two more windows on either side of the wagon were ajar for the same purpose. The breeze wafted across his damp skin. _Thank God. I’m sweating bullets here!_

Hanging from the ceiling were colored bottles reflecting rainbows over the walls, and bundles of dried plants were tied in one corner. An ornate rug covered the wooden floor. Toward the back was a bench with bedding, neatly made and looking comfortable. Some of the cabinets were open, and various articles were strewn about.

“I would offer some tea, but I wasn’t expecting any guests, so I don’t have any ready,” Viola said. She pulled a key from a pocket in her dress and went for a set of cabinets above her bed. The shelves contained numerous tiny bottles of all shapes, sizes, and colors. “So, what can I help you with?”

Alternate swallowed as he stared at the bottles in the cabinets. Are those what make her so famous?

“I have a friend who needs a help,” he said. “She’s got a cough, and the doctor said he didn’t have anything that could help. He mentioned you were in town and said you had something that would work.”

Viola cocked her head. “A cough? That’s all?”

“Yeah.”

“A cough,” the woman said with a nod. “Yes, I have something.”

“Are you a medicine peddler or something?”

“Sort of—Well, I have two jobs here: I sell medicine and I’m an entertainer.”

“An entertainer?”

“People pay to see my snakes.”

Alternate’s throat clenched and he swallowed again. “S-S-Snakes?”

Viola smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I have them put away in another wagon—“

Something tickled the top of Alternate’s head, and he jumped away with a shriek, his hands swiping at whatever had touched him. A green snake, its tongue flicking to taste the air, lowered from the ceiling.

“Oh, except that one,” said Viola. “He’s my favorite, so I like to keep him close. I’m the resident ‘snake charmer’, although it’s more like the snakes have charmed _me_.” She laughed.

Alternate failed to see the joke. He was too busy watching the snake with its glowing yellow eyes. Its tongue flicked out inches from his face.

“He won’t bite,” said Viola.

The young man inched away from the serpent and turned to her. “So, can you help me?”

“It shouldn’t be difficult for something as simple as a cough. I think I have just the thing.”

The snake charmer ran a finger along the lines of bottles in the cabinets. Meanwhile, Alternate eyed the snake. The creature had gone back to the ceiling.

Viola selected a red bottle. “Ah, here it is. I thought maybe I didn’t have it anymore. This is more of a general cure, but it’s good all the same.”

“Yeah, sure, sure.” Alternate fished into his pockets. “How much?”

“Well, this medicine is a special elixir made from rare plants, concocted by an African shaman—“

“I’ll pay whatever you want.”

Viola lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not sure you could actually afford my asking price, but since you’re not here for yourself, but for a friend, I’ll give you a discount.”

Before she could name her price, Alternate presented a solid gold chain necklace. “Will this do?”

Viola gave a start. “Well, yes—“

“Then take it. I don’t need it anymore.”

“Where did you—“

“It’s mine. I inherited it.” _Sorry, Dad…_

“Good enough for me,” the woman said with a shrug.

They made their exchange, and Alternate was out the door before she could say goodbye. He ran out of the carnival grounds and back into town to his friends, hopeful this awkward encounter would pay off.

 

* * *

 

The sky had deepened to a dark blue by the time Alternate got to the hotel. Stars glittered to life and the moon rose overhead. As he was about to step through the front door, however, he halted and took a moment to think.

“I just bought a strange medicine from a strange woman at a carnival,” he mumbled. “I know I’m desperate here, but was that a good idea?”

The vial resembled a tiny wine bottle, cork and all, its red glass lustrous in the light spilling forth from the hotel windows. He shook it a bit to see a clear liquid sloshing about inside.

“Maybe I should check to make sure it’s safe.” He used his fingernails to try to pry the cork up, but it held fast. _How can it be this hard? It’s just a little cork._ He exerted a bit more effort and pulled harder.

The cork popped out, and the medicine erupted from the bottle to splash Alternate in the face. He dropped the bottle and wiped away the mess with his sleeve, sputtering a curse under his breath.

“How in the heck…?” He sniffed and tasted the medicine, but it had no odor or taste. Was it just water? “I knew it. I got ripped off!”

He picked up the bottle and stuffed it in his pocket. Sighing, he went into the hotel and upstairs to the room where his friends were waiting.

They all shared a single room due to lack of space in the hotel. There were few hotels in the town and all of them were mostly booked for a local celebration, the carnival being part of it. They needed to get out of sight before someone from the Syndicate saw them, and so decided to hole up in a hotel instead of camping outside, vulnerable and exposed.

_But then this happened. Now we might be here for a while._

With a forlorn heart, Alternate knocked three times on the door to signal he was an ally. Baskerville admitted him into the room. Everyone stood around the bed where Mingchao was covered up to her neck with blankets. When she saw him come in, she tried to sit up, but a coughing fit sent her back to her pillows.

“Well, did you get something?” Benkate asked. She lifted a glass of water to Mingchao’s lips.

Alternate hung his head. “No such luck. The doctor didn’t have anything.”

“How can a doctor not have cough medicine?”

“He just didn’t.”

Everyone frowned at him. Mingchao sighed beneath her blankets, her face flushed and eyelids drooping with exhaustion.

Alternate shrugged. “What else can we do?”

“Maybe she’ll get better on her own?” Yaghi said. He smiled to encourage them.

Baskerville nodded. “She might. In fact, I think she will, but she’s not getting much rest when she’s been coughing so much.” He turned to Alternate. “Let’s go back to the doctor. Maybe he’ll have something that can at least help her sleep.”

Alternate hesitated. “W-Well, the doctor was…”

“Was what?”

“He was drunk! He couldn’t find the cough medicine _and_ he sent me a wild goose chase to some snake oil saleswoman at the carnival.”

“We’ve got to try again. With Mingchao out of commission like this, we can’t move forward. We need the combined forces of the Eto Gun and Zodiac to fend off the Syndicate until we get to New York City. Without her, we’re only half the power.”

“Whatever you say…”

* * *

 

 The doctor didn’t answer the door no matter how many times they knocked. Considering the hour, it wasn’t surprising. The moon was high and bright, casting its white radiance all around. The windows were dark, business owners long since departed for home. Not a soul stalked the quiet streets.

“He’s probably passed out,” Alternate grumbled.

Baskerville tried the doorknob but it was locked. He muttered something under his breath.

“Maybe Fino’s got something that might help?” Alternate suggested. “She sometimes carries medicine with her.”

“We would’ve used it by now.” Baskerville paused. “What’s that smell?”

Alternate sniffed the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

“It’s sweet.”

“I still don’t smell it. Where’s it coming from?”

“I’m not sure…” Baskerville peered at him and came closer. “It’s coming from you. Why do you smell like cookies?”

Alternate brought up his hands. “I have no idea! It’s not me. It’s probably a bakery somewhere.”

“Baking at this time of night?” Baskerville stopped and went silent. Color bloomed over his cheeks. He blinked.

Uneasiness wrapped cold fingers around Alternate’s soul. “Um, wh-what’s wrong? You look a little—”

A hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward to come nose to nose with Baskerville.

“Why is it that I’ve never noticed until now?” Baskerville said in a low, husky voice.

Alternate squirmed in his grasp. “N-Noticed what? Would you let me go? What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”

He turned his head away as he was pulled forward, the other man’s breath puffing against his skin. “You are absolutely delectable.”

“Why, because I smell like cookies? Let me go already!”

Firm fingers drew Alternate’s chin up, and a hand snaked around his back, making him shiver. He stared into his friend’s eyes.

He tried to speak, but Baskerville covered Alternate’s mouth with his own, and the younger man stood frozen and stunned. He couldn’t tear himself away. His brain struggled to process what was happening, and his thoughts turned blank with horror.

When Baskerville at last pulled away, Alternate regained his mental capacities and snapped back to reality. He slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Wh-Wh-What was _that_ for?” he asked shrilly.

Baskerville gazed at him with satisfied tranquility. “I’ve been wanting to do that.”

Alternate rubbed his lips with the back of his hand. “Since _when_?”

Now his friend’s eyebrows came down in confusion. “I don’t know.” Then he smiled again. “But I… I love you.”

 _Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong_.

“I didn’t know you liked men,” Alternate said. “B-But, listen, I’m not— I don’t feel that way. About you, I mean. A-And we should get back to the hotel. I’m sure everyone’s worried about us.”

Baskerville took a step forward. “We don’t need to go back just yet. Let’s take our time. Just you and me.”

“I told you—“

“But I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes.”

“ _What_ way? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Baskerville turned a pinkish hue as he looked at Alternate lovingly. He offered his hand. “Let’s take a walk under the stars together.”

Alternate turned and bolted down the street with a scream.

 

* * *

 

 His heart pulsed painfully in his throat as he peered around the corner of the shop to see the way he had come. The moon paled the street and reflected in the windows of the vacant businesses. Alternate’s skin crawled in the eerie hush.

 _That wasn’t like him_. _Even if he really was in love with me, why would he confess like that, and right there?_ Alternate never noticed any signs that Baskerville had feelings for him, either. _I always thought he had a thing for Mingchao. In any case, I’ve got to get back to the others. Maybe he’ll leave me alone if we’re with other people._ He sighed. _The rest of this trip is going to be very uncomfortable._

He chose a different route to the hotel, keeping to the shadows in case Baskerville was still out there. The former Syndicate killer never gave chase, which perplexed Alternate. He burned hot at the memory of the kiss. _I don’t mind if he likes men. I just wish he’d given me a heads up before he did that. I’ve never kissed anyone before!_

As he came upon the hotel, someone stepped out the front doors. Benkate walked to the road and took a long breath of fresh air, but when she saw him coming she planted her hands on her hips.

“Where’s Baskerville?” she asked. “You two split up?”

“U-Uh, yeah. He, uh…had to take care of something.” He cringed at the weak answer.

“Huh. So you couldn’t get the doctor?”

“No, I think he was asleep.”

“So where did Basky run off to?”

 _Think, think, think! I can’t tell her about what happened._ “I—I don’t know. He wouldn’t say.”

Benkate huffed and scratched the back of her head. “Well, he better not be trying to do something without us.” She stopped. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That smell.” She threw him a knowing grin. “Did you and Basky buy Mingchao some cookies? That’s really sweet…” Her grin dropped and her eyes went wide with a glassy sheen, a rosy color spreading over her face. “Alternate?”

He shrank back from the look she gave him.

Benkate lurched forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning in to breathe into his ear.

“I used to think you were such a twerp,” she said, “but now you’re so cute. I love how you always go for what you want, no matter who gets in your way.”

Alternate fought to pry her arms off. “What are you spouting, Benkate? Come on, get off me! You’re heavy!”

“Hot _and_ heavy—for you, you little cutie.”

He turned his lips away in time to dodge another unwelcome kiss. Her lips landed on his cheek and slid toward his mouth, but he bent his head down to divert their progress. His legs tangled with hers and they both toppled to the ground. Benkate’s breasts smashed against his face. He gasped for air as she giggled atop him. Getting his legs in position, he managed to shove her off and scramble away before she could reorient herself.

“Alternate,” she called, “wait! Let me love you!”

He dashed through hotel doors and ran up the stairs to the room. Hand over his racing heart, he tried to steady the maelstrom of terror and confusion that had left him reeling. Nausea prickled in the back of this throat.

_Now I know something’s definitely wrong. It’s like Benkate was someone else._

He stopped at the door and braced his hands on his knees. The nausea was passing, but his heart felt about to burst, and fear constricted his soul like a snake would a mouse. A warning whispered in his head.

 _Baskerville_ and _Benkate in the same night? No way it’s a coincidence. What is the world is going on?_

Both of his friends had mentioned smelling something sweet.

“Is it really coming from me?” He took a whiff of his clothes, but detected no scent. “What could they possibly…?”

The door jerked opened, and Fino gasped when she saw him. Yaghi peeked out from behind her.

“Alternate, was that you running around and making all that noise?”

He pushed past her into the room.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is there danger?”

“N-Not really. It’s just—We didn’t find any medicine, so…sorry.”

Fino put a hand on his arm. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“It’s nothing, really.”

Mingchao slept soundly, the blankets piled over her. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her breathing seemed regular, but she could awaken at any moment in another coughing fit.

“Yaghi, go and get some more cool water,” Fino said.

He nodded and was out the door in a flash.

Alternate’s heart dropped when he looked at his young friend lying in bed, and for a moment forgot his troubles. “Looks like Mingchao has a fever. Things are worse than we thought.”

 He reached out to touch her forehead and check the fever when two arms wrapped around his waist. Jolted, Alternate twisted around to see Fino hugging him.

“You smell good,” she said, her face buried in his back. She inhaled deeply and squeezed him. “You _feel_ good.”

“F-Fino, you, too?”

She lifted her gaze, her large, black eyes brimming with adoration. “We understand each other so well, what it feels like to want revenge for our parents. You saved my life. I was so wrong about you. I love you. Will you marry me?”

A flash of warmth spread through him, and a nervous smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Again?”

“What do you mean, ‘again’? This is the first time I’ve asked.” Her hold tightened. “Wouldn’t you want me to be your wife?”

“W-Well, I haven’t thought that far ahead—“

Fino brightened. “Are you saying you love me, too?”

Words lodged in Alternate’s throat. He sputtered and tried to force her arms away. She determined to keep her grip but eventually relented, keeping her dreamy eyes on him.

“Something’s not right here,” he said.

“What do you mean? Everything’s perfect.”

“No, you’re not yourself.”

“But I am myself. It’s true that I love you.”

Fino attempted to hug him again but Alternate jumped to the side and darted out the door, leaving her crying after him.

He saw Yaghi walking back toward the room with a bowl of water and a small towel over his shoulder. As Alternate rushed past, the boy whipped about in puzzlement, spilling some of the water on the floor.

“Sorry, Yaghi! I—I have something I need to do.”

He rushed down the stairs and took a back door to avoid Benkate, and escaped into the night.

 

* * *

 

_Here I am again. I wasn’t even safe in the hotel._

Alternate sat on a bench outside a land survey office. Face in his hands, he took slow breaths to stave off the nausea that had returned. His arms and legs trembled.

_What could’ve caused all this? There’s some sort of power over them. Is this the Syndicate’s doing?_

It would’ve been a very strange thing for them to do. The crime group was more interested in seeing them all dead than giving them this kind of trouble. It was more embarrassing than anything else.

He sat back and expelled a breath. Wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers, something rubbed against his right palm. He pulled out the little red bottle from his pocket.

“That’s right. It splashed me earlier.” _That snake charmer told me this stuff was made in Africa with special plants. Could this be the cause?_

He sniffed the bottle, but couldn’t detect an odor. _If this is making everyone crazy, then why can’t I smell it? Everyone else can._ He would need to return to Viola Venom to solve the mystery.

Alternate went on his way to the carnival grounds, wondering what the snake charmer had given him. She had believed the vial contained medicine, but it seemed she had given him something quite different and hadn’t realized it. Viola hadn’t appeared like the kind of person to play cruel tricks.

_And I gave her that gold necklace, too. What a waste!_

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He stopped and whirled to find Baskerville standing behind him. The tall man loomed over him, his face plastered with a creepy grin.

“I looked everywhere for you and thought I’d lost you,” he said. The moon shone in his eyes in such a way it gave Alternate chills.

Alternate backed away. “Listen, something’s going on and I’m not sure what it is. What you feel isn’t real!”

“I’ve never felt anything more real than this.” Baskerville reached out and embraced him. “I don’t want it to stop.”

The younger man muffled with his face in his friend’s chest. _He’s too strong. I can’t get away!_

“We don’t have to tell the others,” Baskerville said serenely. “It can be our secret.”

His arms fell away and he staggered back. He swayed on his feet before crumpling to the ground on his side.

Alternate stared in amazement. “What…?”

A figure cloaked in starlight stood several feet away, white hair and clothes stark against the backdrop of night.

“I knew it,” said the figure, a woman.

“You!” said Alternate. “Viola Venom?”

“Yes. When I saw what was happening, I used this blowgun to stop him.” Black and about six inches long, the little weapon was barely discernable in the darkness.

“You _poisoned_ him?”

He knelt to check Baskerville’s pulse. A tiny dart with red feathers stuck out from the back of the man’s shoulder. Alternate snapped a glare on the snake charmer. “You’re lucky. If he was dead, I’d have killed you.”

Viola waved a hand at him. “Oh, no, no. It’s just a sedative.”

When she walked toward him, he put up a hand to stop her. “Don’t come any closer. Everyone who has has—“

“Suddenly fallen in love with you?” Viola’s green eyes twinkled with amusement. “I know that. I accidentally gave you the wrong bottle, but I didn’t notice until long after you left. So I came to find you. You’ll need to wait until it wears off.” She motioned toward the carnival. “Come with me back to my wagon. You can hide there until the potion wears off.”

“And how long will that be?”

“Depends on when you drank it.”

“I didn’t drink it. I tried to open the bottle and got it all over my face! What is that stuff, anyway?”

“Come with me and I can tell you everything.”

“No! What if you fall in love with me, too?”

“That—“

“I’ll hide out somewhere…”

Viola shook her head. “I don’t want to have to do this.”

“Do what?”

There was a sharp sting in his neck. Alternate swatted at the pain and came away with a dart like the one that had hit Baskerville.

“You..!”

The world swam before his eyes, and soon he was looking up at the sky, his body paralyzed. A low moan escaped his throat.

The pale face of the snake charmer peered down at him. “I _am_ sorry about that,” she said with pity. “It’s really the only way.”

Alternate moaned once more, and his vision went black.

 

* * *

 

 When he opened his eyes, it took some time for Alternate to realize what he was looking at. Colorful bottles dangled from the ribbed ceiling of the wagon, catching the sunbeams that filtered in between the shutters on the windows.

He found himself lying on the bench-like bed. He touched his neck where the dart had struck and felt a sore spot. A welt had come up and it made him wince.

“Miss Venom?” he called softly. He blinked a few times to clear his vision, as it had begun to cloud over a little as if he had a filmy substance in his eyes. Sleep still weighed on his mind and body.

Baskerville lay on the floor with his arms folded over him. Someone had taken care to put cover him with a blanket. His chest rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep.

Stepping over his comatose companion, Alternate went for the door but it held fast. _Locked? But it doesn’t look locked from the inside._ Was it locked from the outside, then?

He checked the windows on either side of the walls and also found them shut tight.

“So this was her plan,” he murmured to himself. “She locked us in here to protect us.”

Why she put Baskerville in with him was unknown, though Alternate appreciated that she didn’t leave him lying in the middle of the street.

The young man tried to see out the shuttered windows. The overcast world outside made it difficult to know the time, but he didn’t think it was evening yet, which meant the potion was still in effect. He glanced back at Baskerville in trepidation. _If I’ve woken up already…_ His heart raced and sweat broke out on his face. _I’m trapped in here!_

He banged on the door and yelled for help. If the carnival workers were still in town, surely someone should be able to hear him. Viola may even be standing just outside.

But no one came to his rescue. With his ear on the door he could hear nothing outside. No people. Could the carnival have packed up and left Viola behind? Where was she?

He checked Baskerville. _He could wake up at any second. There’s no way I can—_

Baskerville snorted and stirred awake. He sat up and looked about, bleary-eyed.

Alternate backed against the door and swallowed. “Oh, God…”

“What is this place?” Baskerville asked, taking in the surroundings. “Is this a…?” Though he appeared to be himself the moment he awoke, as soon as he pinned his sights on Alternate his entire aura shifted back to the love-drunk delirium of the previous night.

Should anyone have been outside the wagon, they might’ve been alarmed by the screams tearing out from behind its walls, and the way the vehicle shook and rocked on its wheels. But in an empty field, where once the carnival peddled its cheap and bawdy entertainment to the locals, Alternate’s screeches went unheard and thus unheeded.

He sat against the wall on the bed, his feet pressed to Baskerville’s chest to keep him at bay. While arms grabbed at him, Alternate tried to find something to defend himself with.

“I know it’s not your f-fault,” he said, his hands searching desperately around him, “but I just—I can’t—“ He growled in frustration. “This is worse than anything the Syndicate could’ve done to us. Maybe they should deal in love potions!”

His feet slipped under the constant shoving, and Baskerville landed on top of him. Alternate gritted his teeth, not sure what to expect, but expecting the worst. But his ardent admirer crawled onto the bed, pulled the younger man close, and held him there with his cheek nuzzled on Alternate’s head. He said nothing, and did nothing else.

“This is kind of weird,” Alternate said as he sat smooshed in his friend’s arms. “I-Is—Is this what you wanted to do?”

Still Baskerville said nothing.

_He’s high on the smell of the potion._

Time passed, but with no clock in the wagon it was hard to tell how long it had been. He hoped Baskerville might fall asleep, but the man didn’t. They only sat together in silence.

After a while, Alternate managed to relax. His love-sick companion never said a word, and he never loosened his hold, so there was no breaking free. The light in the wagon dimmed somewhat, heralding the evening.

 _He’s warm. I could almost fall asleep._ His nerves were still fried from earlier, however. _I just wish_ he _would fall asleep, but he just keeps staring off into space._

As it seemed sleep would overtake Alternate, he came fully awake when he heard his companion say, “Where are we?”

“A—This is—The wagon of the…”

“Why are we cuddling?” The false priest slowly released his friend and stood from the bed. “How did we get here?”

Alternate’s voice shook with embarrassment. “It’s a long story.”

“My shoulder is sore.”

“I know.”

“What happened? Where are the others?” Consternation flitted over Baskerville’s countenance. “Did the Syndicate do this? Did they trap us here?”

“But how do you feel?” Alternate examined him closely. “Do you feel…strange at all?”

“Why would I feel strange? Should I?”

“N-No, no. You should feel normal.”

He debated whether to tell the story or not, but once Viola returned to free them, the story would come out anyway. If Baskerville didn’t remember any of it, then the others wouldn’t, either. Would it be possible to keep it all a secret? But then how would he explain how the two of them ended up in the wagon? Could he lie?

_No. I can’t lie to my friends._

Alternate took a breath to begin the tale when there was a knock at the door.

“Young sir, are you still in there?” came a woman’s voice.

“Miss Venom!” He stepped to the door and tried the knob. “It’s locked. Why did you lock me in—okay, I know why you did, but the poison—I mean, the sedative you gave us wore off before evening.”

“It did?” Viola sounded surprised. She paused. “I guess I didn’t give you enough. If I had given you too much, it would’ve killed you. It’s a notoriously difficult poison to measure exac—“

“A poison?! But you said—Never mind. That’s fine. Can you just let us out?”

“How’s your friend?”

“He’s back to normal.”

Baskerville echoed his words in puzzlement.

Viola went to work unlocking the door and opened it. “I’m sorry I had to lock you in, but it was for your safety.”

“Except you locked me in with—“ Alternate stopped short when he saw all his friends standing outside behind the snake charmer. He felt himself blush. “You’re all here!”

Viola chuckled. “I was with them last night to help your sick friend.” She held up an empty, rectangular red bottle. “This was the medicine I should’ve given you.”

Mingchao stood among her friends, looking as healthy as she had before she fell ill. She gave him the okay sign. “Worked like a charm.”

Alternate smiled. It gave him joy to see her looking so well. His annoyance at the snake charmer vanished, that is until—

Yaghi piped up. “Miss Venom told us about everything that happened last night. She said everyone was falling in love with you. Fino was so upset, and then suddenly she acted like she didn’t know what happened.”

“Damn it,” Alternate whispered.

“Everyone falling in love with you?” said Baskerville, sounding confused.

“Everyone except me and Mingchao,” Yaghi added. “Oh, and Miss Venom.”

The snake charmer appeared pleased, but Alternate couldn’t fathom why. Her potion had made his life hell—and he’d never forget it.

He held his tongue, knowing Viola had helped Mingchao in the end. He could at least give her credit for that despite all the trouble.

After the snake charmer returned to her wagon (stunned though she was at the calamity that had occurred inside), Alternate and his friends headed back to their hotel. The group chatted happily, more interested in Mingchao’s rebound than anything, but a few times Baskerville stole a quick glance at Alternate with a questioning look.

The young man always averted his gaze. It was peculiar to him how no one seemed disturbed or angry about what had happened. _Don’t they wonder what they did?_ But he supposed they would all forget it in the end. They had more important things to worry about.

Back at the hotel, Alternate hung back while everyone conversed about the days ahead, and he eventually slipped out the door. Mingchao caught him before he could disappear downstairs.

“I’m going to take a bath,” he said, trying to sound casual. More than anything he wanted a good scrub, not because he felt dirty from the night before, but because he needed to be absolutely sure the potion was gone. He also wanted to wash his clothes. He had a horrible recurring thought that the potion would somehow reactivate itself.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mingchao asked.

“Yes.”

“Then how come you don’t want to be with us.”

“It’s been a long twenty-four hours.”

“Was it really that bad?”

“What did Miss Venom tell you?”

“She said Mr. Priest was all over you.”

“He was. And so were Benkate and Fino. I ran away from Yaghi before he could be affected. You were asleep.” He suppressed a shiver. “You know, I want people to like me, but not like that!”

Mingchao giggled. “It doesn’t take a love potion to get people to like _you_ , Alternate, and I know it doesn’t take a love potion for _me_ to like you, either.” She winked at him, which elicited a blush from him in return.

“Do you really think so?” he asked.

“Of course, silly.” The girl signaled for him to lean down, as if she had a secret to tell.

He bent to let her whisper in his ear, but instead she stood on her toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

“See what I mean?” she said. With a grin, she skipped back to the room.

Alternate watched after her, his fingers touching where she had kissed him. Maybe, somehow, it was different coming from her, because he felt truly delighted.

It was like she said. She didn’t need a magic potion, because she already loved him.


End file.
